Wild Nights
by xinde
Summary: A lil' pre-holiday/world's end smut for you all. Matt and Mello are here to help you deal with the ending of the Mayan calendar and the beginning of their new (sex) lives together. Set between chapters 5 and 6 of That Is the Question, but previous readership not necessary.


**Wild Nights**

**A/N: **This is basically the libidinous lemon that occurs between chapters 5 and 6 of _That Is the Question. _There's absolutely no plot in here, so you do not need to have read the whole story (but it would be nice if you did :D). All there is to know is that it's Matt/Mello, first time together, right after love confession. Um…I don't think there's anything else. I don't own _Death Note._

Enjoy!

* * *

_Matt: 11:40 p.m., December 25th, 2009_

"Oh, god, Mello," I groan. If he thinks me blasphemous, he's too busy devouring me whole to say so.

Devouring me whole—isn't that excessive? In reality, he's just kissing and nipping at my sensitive parts, which currently seem to include my whole body. This is what passionate love is all about, right? Feel all manners of pleasure, bust the happiness-o-meter, and come crashing down later.

Oh, god, that's my neck, Mello, try not to break any important blood vessels. I scrape desperately at his back, long since stripped of vest and jacket. He's starting down my chest, fingers trailing in the wake of his kisses, and he is so beautiful. His eyes are closed like he doesn't need to see me to know my body. I reach to cradle that glorious face, cheeks beginning to flush a dusky rose.

Hey wait, those are my pants you're throwing everywhere, Mello; be nice to them, you know they have feelings too.

Oh wait…those are my pants that I'm not wearing anymore…which means if he goes any lower, as he's showing every sign of intending to do, I really won't be able to take it.

It occurs to me that if he keeps going, he'll get the impression that I'm letting him dominate me.

Hell no.

I reach down and tug at his hair. "If you think you're the only one who gets to have fun," I say breathlessly, pulling him up by the shoulders and shoving him to the mattress, "think again."

He grins up at me, his body deceptively limp beneath my hands. "Challenge accepted."

I have half a second's warning before he hurls his upper body at me. React, fast. I grab a pillow and slam it into the region of his chest and face. Hm…erotic asphyxiation. Always wanted to try that.

He squirms and shrieks, muffled by the pillow. I straddle his chest and grab his flailing arms so I can pin his wrists above his head with the hand that isn't mashing the pillow into his face. I also realize that we are still wearing too many clothes.

A knee between his legs has him moaning into the pillow. "Must be uncomfortable, trying to keep this in," I observe drily, rubbing more insistently against him. "Be a good boy, Mello, and I'll let you out."

He says nothing, but that could be the pillow talking. I undo the Gordian knot of his laced-up fly with incredible dexterity. One-handed, oh snap.

He nudges the pillow aside to moan afresh at my fingers bringing him to a height of pained arousal. "Matt," he whimpers as I play around the tip of his head.

"Yep, that's the name you'll be screaming all night." I bring my lips up to his ear swiftly. "You know, darling, you could break my grip if you really tried." I clench my hand around his wrists.

He struggles and starts to say something but breaks off as I renew my efforts to draw agonized moans from his lips.

"But you won't try, Mello. You know you want me." I can't keep the smirk out of my voice. "Don't you want me to fuck you just the way you like?"

He half-gasps, "Go to hell, Matt."

"Only if you come with me, Mello. In more senses than one, you know what I mean?"

I hoist him up closer to the headboard, and glory hallelujah, it's the kind with metal bars so favored by amateur BDSM freaks. What to tie him with, though? His rosary would probably snap…

…the answer is hanging around _my _neck. I yank his hands through the bars and wrap my goggles' strap around three times. He gapes at me, probably beginning to question the brilliance of getting in bed with a closet bondage aficionado.

"Don't worry, Mello," I whisper. "I'd never do anything you wouldn't want."

"Matt, let me touch y—" I swallow his whine in a kiss, wide and deep and leaving him utterly immobile.

Now, about those pants…

When we've both achieved a satisfactory level of nakedness, I survey this heavenly body that somehow has become mine to worship.

(He would really chew me out for that.)

He's breathing hard and shivering a little, his thin chest shining with sweat. His arousal beckons to me, slick and needy, and I know by the way he grimaces and bites his lip that he's self-conscious under my shameless gaze. I can help with that, though.

"Mello, don't worry," I say again, taking him in hand and tracing from head to base with one finger. "Let me love you."

I'm not really expecting an intelligible answer as I close my mouth around him.

"Oh, Matt!" he cries, arching his neck and tugging at his bonds. He's the sexiest thing in the world at this moment, but I have a job to focus on, and that is to make sure he melts into a boneless heap of over-pleasured jelly. Somehow that doesn't sound very sexy, but I believe he could make it look the part.

"Matt, agh…Matt…so good," he moans brokenly as I grin at the thought.

"Just you wait; it gets better," I promise. He whines at the loss of my mouth; I dip my head again and apply a hint of teeth. He shifts, and his breath catches.

"Please…Matt…"

_But I _am_ pleasing you, Mello. And I'm about to please you even more._

I sit up and put three fingers in my mouth. He opens his eyes, and have I mentioned how adorable he looks when he's nervous?

"You ready for me, gorgeous?"

He swallows, and I think of all the sexy things he could be swallowing…

…concentrate, Matt. I want his mind blown, never mind his dick.

His eyes track my fingers apprehensively, watching them slide from my mouth…

…to enter myself.

…ugh. Feels weird. Like I keep trying to push them out. Mello's face, though, makes it worth it. He wears the dumbfounded-concerned-horny-as-hell look very well.

"What are you doing, Matt?"

Isn't it obvious? "Preparing us for the best orgasm of our combined sex lives, duh. Now shush and be patient."

"But are you sure—"

God, he talks so much. One way to shut him up briefly is to push myself down onto him abruptly, preparation be damned.

Oh. Ow. Owww. FUCK.

Fuck, this fucking hurts worse than fuck.

"Matt, are you—"

"Fine," I grit out. Fuck, getting my tattoo was nothing compared to this.

God, it can't hurt any worse than this, can it? I push myself up minutely and sink back down, Mello shifting his hips restlessly all the while.

See, that wasn't too bad. I hold his hips down with both hands and do it again. Ok. Slow and steady goes it. Then he goes and wriggles out of my grip and slams his hips upwards and my brain dissolves into fairy dust. And as the fragments of my skull begin to fall, I dazedly register his wide, dilated pupils fixed on me still.

"Matt…?"

"Fuck, do that again."

And again, and again, and again…on my word, if you'd told me yesterday that I'd be riding Mello into kingdom come, I wouldn't have believed it.

"Fuck, Matt," he moans, drawing out my name in a lust-filled cry.

"That's exactly what you're doing," I agree breathlessly.

We're both incoherent, wordless cries and each others' names dropping from our lips. The room is impossibly warm, and we are impossibly close to our limits. I decide to push us still closer (notice my avoidance of the word _near_; that would really douse Mello's libido) by pushing a finger into Mello, followed by two more.

Dear god, I was not expecting the exponentially increased onslaught of sexual abandon as he writhes under me. I can tell that the unspeakable pleasure of penetrating and being penetrated will push him over the threshold very soon, and I plan accordingly, stroking myself in time to my fingers thrusting inside of Mello and Mello thrusting inside of me (multitasking for the win). As he suddenly tenses and releases inside of me, I can't help but come too, collapsing onto his chest from overstimulation and riding it out almost nose-to-nose with him.

He opens his eyes as I remove myself from him and clamber up to untie him. His hands are an unhealthy red-purple from cutoff circulation, and I rub his wrists gently.

"God, Matt," he whispers. "That was…"

"Fucking amazing?"

"Better." He drags me down for a long kiss.

I drop to his side, feeling like I've been happily bulldozed for the past hour.

"Matt?"

"Mm?" I mumble.

"Thank you."

"What am I, your domme?" I mock. I put on a falsetto, "Thank you mistress for letting this bondage slut come; please feel free to fuck her all night long!"

"Seriously, Matt." He looks at me, all trace of aroused incoherence gone from his eyes. "Do you think that just anyone is allowed to tie me to a bed and pleasure me? That I could lose my pride and give someone else control? 'Cause that's what you let me do, and I liked it. _Loved_ it, fuck."

I mull over his words and figure I could have seen them coming. He was a big cheese in the mafia, but that didn't mean he could ever get complacent. And before that, from the sound of it, he never relaxed at Wammy's—he couldn't. But now…

"I trust you," he says, and I know he doesn't just mean in bed.

"You're so cheesy," I snort, but I kiss him again, and I'm quietly glad.

* * *

**A/N: **Just reread this after a few weeks of letting it sit; cringed in several places, but too lazy to work it out better. Hehe, this is actually the first explicit one I've written, though not the first to be posted. So you can judge accordingly.


End file.
